Empty Promises
by Bounced
Summary: Years after Gozaburo's death, Seto is still haunted by his ghost. One-Shot.


"Just go home. You are obviously too tired for such _important_ work."

Seto paused to rub his eyes and remind himself that he didn't have to do everything that Gozaburo's ghost told him to do. The idea of glaring into the empty corner was tempting, but real or not, Seto wouldn't give in to such an illogical response. He was tired and it was late, but the software update released in a week. He took a sip from his lukewarm coffee and got back to work that was actually important, no matter what Gozaburo said.

"Are you ignoring me because you don't like what I'm saying or because you know I'm right?"

Seto's desk phone rang. He answered without checking to see who was on the other end.

"It's after nine. We have a deal."

"I have to stay a while longer, Mokuba. We're releasing in a week."

"Not if the CEO dies of exhaustion. You promised."

He kept the phone propped between his ear and shoulder while he typed. He had been troubleshooting a particular bug in the system upgrade for over three hours, but hadn't been able to figure out why the counter on the duel disk wouldn't register the number zero after the update.

"One late night won't kill me."

"Four. This is the fourth one this week."

"I will be home once I finish this one ticket."

"I swear, Seto. If you don't come home now, I'm going to college abroad."

"Luckily, I still have another four years to enjoy your company," Seto said.

Gozaburo walked from the corner of the room to sit on one of the chairs in front of Seto's desk. He was harder to ignore from the position, because his face was right beside the computer monitor. Seto continued typing and keeping his eyes away from the figure on the chair.

"That's not funny. Please come home."

"I'll be there by ten."

The line went dead. Seto held the phone against his ear for a few more seconds while he finished with his line of coding. There was a chance that if he rewrote most of the code, then he would fix the issue without spending too much longer fussing over it. The issue had to be a simple error, one so small that even he couldn't find it on a proofread.

"He can't need you that badly," Gozaburo said. He relaxed back in the chair like it was a throne and somehow managed to stare down at Seto.

Seto's gaze flickered to the clock. When told Mokuba ten, he spoke under the assumption that it was closer to nine. The small numbers on his computer's clock read 9:33. There wasn't time to finish and make it by ten. Mokuba would understand if he made it back half an hour late. He ran a company. Typical work schedules didn't apply.

A knock came from his door, so Seto called out a curt invitation in. It was Paul, his chief of the software division. Paul carried a thick folder over to Seto's desk, in between the two chairs and beside Gozaburo.

"We've fixed tickets twelve, seventeen, and twenty-one," he said, placing the folder on Seto's desk. "Work has started on sixteen and four."

"Fine," Seto said. He didn't reach for the folder because he had no reason to look at its contents. He would run the test system tomorrow to make sure the debugs were successfully completed. Then if it didn't work, he would go through their findings to locate the error.

"If there was something else you needed," Paul said, letting the sentence hang open-ended. It was a courtesy, a formality.

"Just go home. You are obviously too tired for such important work," Seto said. He waved a dismissive hand before Paul could offer to stay later. It wasn't like they had a hugely publicized release to prepare for. For what Seto paid his software team, he would have expected them to be willing to work a few late nights two weeks out of the year.

After Paul left, Seto reached over to his drawer and pulled out a prescription bottle. He dumped three of the pills into his hand before putting one back, then swallowed the remaining two dry. Recapping the lid, Seto closed his eyes and fumbled for the drawer. He should have developed medication with an immediate response instead of gaming software.

Seto finished with the section of code and ran through a test sequence. A few clicks later and the life point meter drained, landing on zero.

It bothered him that he didn't know what the problem had been. If a simple rewrite solved the problem, a rewrite that took just two hours, then it must have been a mistake from the initial write. That would mean that Development didn't check their work before submitting the program for testing.

He saved the new code to upload into the finished product. It had taken more of his day than he had scheduled to work on the ticket, so his morning would have to consist of reviewing contracts and reading over the PR department's plan to cover the release. That had to be done before his conference call with some overseas toy store chain whose name he had forgotten to write down, which he had scheduled in place of his lunch. His afternoons usually consisted of the work he actually enjoyed doing, but there was some kind of meeting at Mokuba's school that Seto hadn't been able to get out of.

Seto brought up his calendar and entered a reminder to hold a meeting with the software team about testing before submitting their work. Something as obvious as a number not registering should have been noticed long before the final set of tests.

"It's a wonder you accomplish anything at all," Gozaburo said.

If there was a way to get rid of mental apparition, Seto would have done so years ago. This Gozaburo followed him everywhere, and unlike the actual Gozaburo Kaiba, didn't have any intentions of jumping out a window. He just belittled everything Seto accomplished and concentrated his attentions on condescending Seto's life. He was the walking devil's advocate to Seto's existence.

At 10:15, Seto's office door swung open.

Mokuba's hands were on his hips and his eyes were narrow.

"It's after ten."

"I have a clock."

He stormed across the office to slam both hands on Seto's desk. The force lifted the top of the folder Paul had left.

"I have a test in the morning," Mokuba said.

"Have you studied for it appropriately?" Seto asked. He clicked to the share drive for his team and found the file where the tickets were stored. He left a note on the one he had just fixed and scanned over the others to see how much work remained before the release.

"Of course. But I'm going to be in no shape to focus on it if I'm here with you all night."

"Then don't stay here," Seto said, but paused when he realized, "How did you get here?"

"I called a cab."

"It is after ten. You shouldn't out alone this late."

"I wouldn't be if you were home by ten, which you said you would be."

His coffee was cold, but Seto took a long sip to empty his mug.

"I'm busy."

"You will be more productive with sleep."

"I'm plenty productive with minimal sleep."

Mokuba leaned forward until his hair fell over his shoulder and brushed the edge of the monitor. His palms lifted from the desk so just his fingertips pressed down against it.

"It is late and I need you to give me a ride home."

"You can't need me that badly," Seto said. "You managed to get yourself here."

"Would you like it if I went all Amontillado on you? Brick the wall on the other side of your door so you can't leave? I bet you _would_ like that."

"So it's a literature test tomorrow?" Seto said, scrolling through his emails to make sure he hadn't skipped over anything important. He flagged a few to follow-up in the morning, but the rest ended up in the trash folder.

Mokuba sat in the chair beside Gozaburo. They both stared at Seto, although Mokuba's expression wasn't as amused as Gozaburo's.

"I'm not leaving without you. Is an extra hour of work more important than my education?"

"Are you asking if running a company is more important than a test?"

"I'm asking if I'm more important."

Seto took a deep breath and looked at his computer. There was so much more work waiting for him to get started, and even more than would need to be done after that. It wasn't just the software update, but the day-to-day functioning of the company.

He pressed his fingers against his temples and started to section out his time into slots that would allow him to accomplish it all.

He powered down his computer.

"Thank you," Mokuba said.

"You are letting him tell you what to do?" Gozaburo asked. He stood like Mokuba. "I thought you were better than this."

"You shouldn't take cabs anymore," Seto said. He grabbed his briefcase and clicked it open, looking for anything that he might need with him in the eight hours he would spend out of the office. He had never gotten a moment to do any work on his laptop, so it was still inside the briefcase. He wished the prototype of the duel disk would fit. There was likely some tinkering that needed to be done on it.

"Could you start using the heat in here?" Mokuba asked. "You're working in an ice box."

Seto adjusted his collar and walked around the edge of the desk.

"You know it's cold. Layer up."

Mokuba and Gozaburo followed Seto out to the hallway. Seto pressed a hand against the lock by his door to secure his office and power down the machines inside. The process took precisely six seconds, during which Gozaburo huffed and said, "Some of these things are just pointless."

Half expecting a tangent about the benefits of an old fashioned lock and key, Seto focused on the hallway in front of him and counted the empty offices.

"I need to stop by programming," Seto said.

Mokuba grabbed Seto's free hand and started walking to the elevators. He leaned with all his weight, which wasn't much, since like Seto, he stayed small through his early teens. Seto assumed, and Mokuba hoped, that also like Seto, he would hit a growth spurt in the next year.

"You aren't going to have much time to sleep," Mokuba said.

"I won't sleep anyway. I need to bring work home."

With a "nuh uh" and a sharp tug, Mokuba led Seto away from the path to programming and gave the elevator button a decisive punch. The grip on Seto's hand didn't slack.

"Mokuba. I run a company. You are hindering my work effort."

Mokuba lifted his gaze up to the numbers changing over the elevator doors. It took about two seconds for each floor, and eighty floors up, Seto debated investing in a faster elevator.

"Are you ignoring me because you don't like what I'm saying or because you know I'm right?" Seto asked.

"I won't take the cab anymore."

Seto sighed as the doors opened. As they stepped in, Mokuba dropped Seto's hand, but made sure to stand between Seto and the door, like he thought that Seto would jump out the first chance he found.

Seto rested back against the mirrored wall, and Gozaburo beside him. The ride down was silent, even Gozaburo. But Gozaburo never talked much around Mokuba, but the times he spoke were all snide remarks, and his face said more than that. His nose wrinkled in a sneer as he glowered down at Mokuba.

At the bottom floor, Seto flipped off a few lights as they passed. The janitorial staff would turn them back on in the morning, so Seto didn't see any reason to leave them on. Unnecessary expenses didn't keep his company in business.

They walked out to the attached parking garage where Seto's car was parked in the first space. Only a few other cars were visible, probably the late-night security who monitored the building in the after-hours shift. Aside from Seto and a few upper-level executives, none of the parking spaces were assigned, but since the late shift started after most everyone had left, the bottom level by the entrance stayed mostly filled at all times.

Mokuba went to the passenger side and waited for Seto to unlock the door. Seto hated how Mokuba acted like his chaperone, monitoring his movements and keeping a careful eye on him as Seto also headed toward the car. He was already out of his office. It wasn't like he was going to sprint back inside.

"Are you too tired to drive home?" Mokuba asked.

"Some of your questions are just pointless," Seto said. He opened his door and set his briefcase in the backseat. Gozaburo disappeared for a few seconds, only to reappear in the rearview mirror.

"You're in a grouchy mood," Mokuba said.

Seto shook his head and started the car, checking the backup camera on his dashboard before whipping out of the space.

"You know I'm busy."

"Busy people need some downtime too."

"I'll take a day off when the release is over. But you can't just pull me out of work like this."

Mokuba took an irritated breath and messed with the volume control for the radio, although it wasn't turned on.

"I waited until everyone was gone. I wouldn't have done that if people were there."

"I would have slept on my couch."

"No, Seto. You wouldn't have."

Seto turned onto the street and wove through the traffic to cut down the time it took to get home. He had never been a particular fan of driving, since he couldn't do any multitasking or work while behind the wheel. He had considered hiring a driver, but with the number of accidents that occurred daily, it felt like putting his life into someone else's hands.

"It's a wonder I accomplish anything at all," Seto said. "You make it sound like I'm a walking corpse."

"It should sound like I'm worried about my big brother. You're barely home anymore."

"I told you. It's just for this release. I'll be back to my usual schedule on the twelfth."

Crossing his arms, Mokuba said, "But you have that game coming out next month."

"You'd think I ran a successful company or something," Seto said.

Gozaburo snorted in amusement from the backseat, which might as well have been a verbalized dig at Seto's use of the word successful, or perhaps company. Maybe it was the combination of words to describe what KaibaCorp became in his absence.

"I think you have employees to give you some slack. No one expects you to go without sleep for days."

"Everyone expects that, Mokuba."

"Well they shouldn't. Plenty of CEOs have a life."

"People expect more from me since I'm so young. If I'm not here more than they are, working harder, producing more, then I start hearing how useless of a CEO I am."

"Since when do you care what people think?"

"I care what my employees think, not the masses."

A light turned yellow and Seto sped up to get through just as it turned to red. The lights running the length of the street blurred, and Seto wasn't sure if it was because he was tired or because of his speed. But the road were empty because of the hour, so Seto kept speeding home.

"And what I think?"

Seto slowed down to be able to look over to his brother. Mokuba's gaze was ahead on the road, but even from his profile, Seto could see the underlying anger.

"If you had your way, I'd work from home."

"That's not true. You'd annoy me being home all the time."

A small smirk worked its way onto Seto's face. He took a right off the main road to get on their street while Mokuba tugged his hair back into a messy ponytail. Seto noticed for the first time that Mokuba was already dressed for bed, wearing a loose t-shirt and sweatpants.

"Are you going to struggle on your test tomorrow?" Seto asked, turning into the driveway.

"Of course not. I've done all the reading."

"And studying?"

"And studying."

"Then you were bluffing?"

"Not about staying in your office until you left."

Seto clicked the overhead button to raise the garage door. The mansion had a three-car garage, although Seto only owned two. His second car would probably go to Mokuba next year when he started driving. Until that time, it just sat on the far left of the garage, only taken out occasionally when Seto was trying to go unnoticed. The gray Avalon was much less conspicuous than the sleek red sports car.

Before Seto took his key out of the ignition, Mokuba was reaching into the backseat. He jumped out of the car with Seto's briefcase, jogging into the house.

Cursing, Seto threw open his own door and ran after Mokuba, barely making the time to close the garage before taking off after him. He knew where Mokuba would hide.

Seto never should have let Mokuba install a new lock on his bedroom door.

"Mokuba!"

"Go to bed, Seto!"

Mokuba's voice came from upstairs. Seto slowed down because he knew he wouldn't be able to catch up before Mokuba got his door locked.

He slapped the banister before walking upstairs, ignoring Gozaburo's pleasure at Seto's annoyance. Mokuba was too old to be pulling ridiculous stunts.

"Maybe you should let this go," Gozaburo said. "Just give up."

Seto clenched his teeth to keep from snapping out at his imagination and continued to Mokuba's room. If Mokuba insisted on acting like a child, maybe he needed to be treated like one.

With two authoritative knocks, Seto announced his presence. He didn't bother trying the doorknob.

"Yes, Seto?" Mokuba called from the other side.

"I came home under the condition that I could work from home."

"I never set that condition."

"I thought you were better than this, past this nonsense."

Mokuba actually laughed. "Come on, Seto. I'm just acting out in my youth."

"I have no qualms grounding you."

"So ground me. I'll just be here more, constantly trying to make you relax."

Seto pressed his forehead against the door and frowned. He was tempted to just break down the door, take it off its hinges so that Mokuba couldn't try to pull any similar trick in the future, but his body didn't want to move. He had been on his feet for most of the day, and his day had started before the sun rose.

"Maybe you should let this go. Just give up," Seto said.

"Go to sleep. You'll be up in like, five hours anyway. Just sleep."

With a silent tap of his fist against the door frame, Seto pushed back so he stood a step away.

"I can't believe I'm letting you tell me what to do," he whispered. But he felt like it was a losing battle no matter what he did. If he fought any harder for his briefcase, then Mokuba would only be hurt by his actions. And just walking away meant that he lost, even if the loss was just to Mokuba, who had gone out of his way to make sure there were no witnesses.

He couldn't have known about Gozaburo.

"I expect it outside your door by the time I'm up," Seto said.

"Sure thing!"

Seto walked down the hall to his own room, not his office like he had intended. The clacking of Gozaburo's shoes against the hardwoods bothered Seto, mostly because he didn't expect his mind to go to such lengths to maintain the illusion. It was never Seto's own shoes causing the sound, but always two distinctive sets.

Seto's room had been cleaned while he was gone. It hadn't been particularly messy when he left that morning, but he could tell from the lines on the floor that someone had vacuumed. The table beside his door where he kept his wallet and keys had a minor shine that indicated it had been polished. But nothing was out of place.

"It never fails to amaze how whipped that boy has you. You'd think you still had on that collar."

Tossing his wallet to the table, along with the keys he vaguely remembered pulling out of the ignition, Seto flipped on the light and headed straight for the bathroom. His steps were quick and assured, and the door slammed behind him with purpose.

"You can't just close a door on me."

His hands gripped his vanity, and Seto leaned forward to support his weight. His gaze met his reflection, glaring back at him, and tried to avoid the image of Gozaburo watching the scene.

He jerked open a drawer and pushed through all the bottles before finding the prescription he wanted. He popped two pills although the label advised just one. It might knock him out enough to sleep through the night, possibly longer than the five hours Mokuba assumed.

"You'll respond to me eventually, pet."

Seto whipped around to face Gozaburo. He realized his mistake only after coming face to face with his father, and then tried to mask the recognition as merely going back into his bedroom. Pretend he came in the bathroom just for the pills, then go to bed. That was as good a cover as he could think.

He toed off his shoes by his bed and managed to loosen his tie before collapsing onto his bed, on top of the comforter and fully clothed. The wrinkles would come out, and the medicine would remove the need to find a comfortable position. He just had to wait to sleep.

"Mokuba tells you to stop working and you stop. He tells you to go home and you obey. He says go to bed and you do without a second thought. Honestly, Seto, I should have trained him as my replacement. He would certainly have been able to control you now that I'm gone."

Seto rolled over. His arms wrapped around his head, pressing against his ears to try to block out Gozaburo's voice. He debated counting sheep, or whatever normal people did while trying to fall asleep each night. Exhaustion or drugs usually knocked him out, but that would take time.

"Could you imagine Mokuba barking orders and you just scampering to obey like a mindless dog? I should have made that a reality."

Just focus on sleeping, Seto thought. He paid attention the blackness created by closing his eyes and the white noise echoing through the room. The static that filled the space couldn't stop Seto from hearing Gozaburo, no matter how many times he reminded himself that Gozaburo was dead. He died years ago. The medicine would kick in.

"I wonder if I could have convinced him to keep you in the collar. He's so protective of you. He might have added a leash."

Running his fingers through his hair didn't do the trick, but pulling a couple hairs out all at once distracted him for long enough to remind himself yet again that Gozaburo wasn't real. Nothing he said mattered. The real Gozaburo – the dead Gozaburo – never would have said those things. He was much subtler, equally harsh, but in a less upfront way.

That meant that the Gozaburo watching him try to sleep wasn't real.

"He might not be so worried about you if you were just more capable. If you had overthrown my empire later on in life, it would have been easier. You wouldn't have to claw your way into people's respect."

Seto's room felt too hot. A layer of moisture built up around his neck, where his shirt was buttoned up as high as it could go. He moved a hand to remove the tie and unbutton the top, hoping that some of the air could reach him and cool him down.

But it was too hot.

He slid off the bed and unbuttoned the rest of his shirt while walking back to the bathroom. He discarded it on the floor by the shower and moved to the sink. Cold water, he needed cold water.

Turning on the tap, Seto leaned over the sink and splashed the water over his face. He repeated the process again and again until he felt his body temperature lower. His hair, all the bangs around his face, were damp and clinging to his skin.

Seto braved his reflection again and looked down.

"It's like the collar never came off."

He touched the ring of scar around his neck, the one which required the turtlenecks, high collars, and frigid office.

And he felt it. The constriction, the pressure, the weight of the collar and the crop under his chin. The fear of punishment and the panic welled up in his chest and he was drowning and he couldn't breathe and why couldn't he breathe?

"There he is. There's my little pet."

That snapped Seto out of it. He caught Gozaburo's gaze and wanted nothing more than to rip all the skin from his neck just to be rid of the scar. He moved his hand away from it to keep Gozaburo from having anything more to comment on.

But that smug expression smirking back at him was too much. Seto clenched his hand into as tight a fist as he could manage. He couldn't take a swing at an apparition, but he could hit the haughty face in the mirror.

The glass splintered out in several directions, sounding with a definite _crack_. It split Gozaburo's face into six separate faces, and Seto smashed those as well until the pieces of the mirror rained down on his counter in a mix of crystal and blood.

Seto hit over and over, hitting the wall where the mirror had been until plaster fell down over the glass. He realized that he was screaming, but just in the way that he understood the fact. He couldn't hear anything but blood pulsing. But it wasn't Gozaburo's blood, and that was the blood he wanted.

Hands grabbed him and tugged him away from the mirror and vanity. Seto struggled against the grip and tried to take another swing. There was still glass and where there was glass there was Gozaburo's arched eyebrow and smirking glare.

The hands moved to his face, forcing Seto to look down at Mokuba. His brother's eyes were wide and he could see the scar around Seto's neck. Seto tried to get his hands up to cover it, but after a passing glance, Mokuba only looked at Seto's face. Mokuba's hands shook against Seto's cheeks.

He looked tired.

"Seto, talk to me. Please talk to me."

"He thinks you're weak, Seto."

Seto leaned back against the wall by his shower and slid to the floor. It got Mokuba's hands off his face, but put him in a position where Gozaburo was really staring down at him.

He ran his fingers back through his hair before realizing that his hand was dripping blood, and that blood was now in his hair and on his face.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself. You're scaring me."

"He won't stop. I can't make him stop," Seto said. He grabbed fistfuls of his hair with disregard for the blood.

"He's not here, Seto. He's dead."

"I laughed when he died."

Mokuba knelt in front of Seto, first sweeping some of the glass away so he could safely put his knees on the tile.

"Yes, what kind of a person laughs when someone jumps out of a window?" Gozaburo said.

"What kind of a person does that?" Seto said.

"I lost it for a while too," Mokuba said.

Seto dropped his head back and closed his eyes. He couldn't stop the crushing sensation weighing on him or the guilt from using Mokuba or Gozaburo's taunts. He couldn't do anything. There was nothing he could do about anything.

"That wasn't the same," Seto said. He shook his head to further his point. "You weren't like me."

"I threatened to cut off Yugi's finger, tried to poison Joey."

"To avenge me. If I hadn't been so-"

"Stop. We can't do this anymore," Mokuba said. "That's all over."

"He's still here. It isn't over."

Gozaburo leered down over Seto. If he hadn't been a ghost, Seto would be trapped in his shadow. Maybe the shadow was still there. Maybe he had never gotten out.

"You can't keep blaming yourself. It's only going to make it harder to forget."

"How am I supposed to forget? I _laughed,_ Mokuba. I called you a loser for thinking you were more important than _a_ _game_."

Mokuba put a hand on Seto's knee and gave him what was probably supposed to be a reassuring squeeze.

"I don't blame you for that. I've forgiven you a long time ago."

"You shouldn't have."

"That's right, Seto. He really hates you. But you give him a home and food. He needs to keep you around."

Pushing away Mokuba's hand, Seto pulled his knees up to his chest. He couldn't remember a time since before the orphanage home that he had occasion to sit in that position. Now that he found himself in it, he wasn't a fan, but couldn't move. It was childish, but almost comforting.

"I forgive you for making a brave decision to get us adopted. I forgive you for all that time spent studying to be a Kaiba and ignoring me," Mokuba said. His hand moved to Seto's neck, covering up the scar, at least on one side. Seto tried to lean out of the touch, but Mokuba tightened his grip.

"No, you listen to me. I forgive you for what happened when you took over KaibaCorp. I forgive you for Death-T and the things you said and did during it. I forgive you for leaving before Duelist Kingdom, even though you had no way of knowing what Pegasus was up to. I forgive you for believing those Big Five creeps when they had just proven they couldn't be trusted. I forgive the late nights and the long weekends. I forgive whatever else you think that I should blame you for. I thought it went without saying, but I'll say it however many times you need to hear it."

Mokuba tilted his head to the side, which blocked Seto's view of Gozaburo.

"Let him go," Mokuba said, pleaded.

Seto nodded to appease Mokuba. Maybe it was the medicine kicking in or his brother's words edging their way into his head, or maybe Seto had just gotten too tired to fight anymore. Breathing with the collar on took so much effort.

He was trapped in a hug seconds later. Part of him wanted to struggle against the contact; most of him wanted to. But it was Mokuba, and he had already done so much damage to his baby brother. Hearing the list of all his transgressions made them sound so much worse.

Mokuba's forehead pressed against Seto's shoulder, and Seto knew that Mokuba had to be getting blood on himself.

The ache in Seto's hand came to the front of his mind. It distracted him from the panic and inability to breathe long enough for Seto to remember himself. He had beaten Gozaburo once. He could do it again. He would do it again.

"Okay, Mokuba. Okay."

Mokuba hugged him several seconds longer, eventually moving back to stare at Seto. There was a little moment, an unspoken exchange, when Mokuba seemed to be asking if Seto really meant it, or if it was just another of his empty promises. Seto did his best to match Mokuba's expression, taking his hands out of his hair to wipe a line of blood off Mokuba's face with his clean hand.

They stayed up long enough to clean the glass off the floor. Or rather, Mokuba swept up the shards carefully with his hands while Seto stood over the sink and washed his knuckles clean. After Gozaburo's death, Seto stopped keeping a first aid kit stocked under his sink, so he had to settle for letting the water run over his hand until the blood flow ended.

"You going to be okay tonight?" Mokuba asked. He had just finished tossing the broken pieces of the mirror into the trash can, and stood between Seto and Gozaburo.

Seto lifted his gaze up past Mokuba, to Gozaburo, and said, "I'll be fine."

Although obvious in his hesitancy to leave, Mokuba did, asking Seto to _please go to bed and don't do anything crazy until the morning,_ and he left Seto's bedroom door open behind him.

Seto lingered in the bathroom, eyes still on Gozaburo.

"You heard him," Seto said.

Gozaburo's laughed echoed in the bathroom. He nodded and took a step forward, his shoes still clacking.

"You think that's all this takes? Three words and you've forgiven yourself?"

Seto was taller, but he always felt so much shorter than his father.

"I'll tell you what, Seto. I'll do that for you. I'll go now. You will wake up tomorrow and pretend everything is fine. You'll make Mokuba breakfast – French toast and fresh-squeezed orange juice – and pretend everything is fine. You'll go to work and be considerate of your employees, pretending. You'll leave early to surprise Mokuba to really sell it. You'll ask him about his day and pretend yours wasn't a struggle. You'll pick out a book you've never had time to read and tell yourself that work isn't everything. You can slide to second best because being the best won't justify your past anyway. You will sleep, maybe even without a nightmare, only to wake up and spend another day pretending."

Another step forward, and Gozaburo's shoes were an inch away from Seto's feet. His smirk hadn't faded, but seemed to have grown in amusement.

"How long can you keep pretending?" he asked. "How long will it be before you snap, before you yell at an employee because they were too slow or at Mokuba for lacking your drive? You know what will happen then?"

Seto was tired of listened and made to walk around Gozaburo, but was cut off when Gozaburo flickered away, only to appear again in front of him.

"You'll look around for me, and I won't be there. You won't have me to blame your outburst. You will realize that you never needed me for your anger, and you will welcome me back just so you will have an excuse for yourself – a justification. Then when you look at that shattered mirror, you can continue to lie to yourself. 'It isn't me. Gozaburo is doing this to me.'"

"Just leave," Seto said. He closed his eyes and told himself that he was stronger than this. He had already won and the man standing in front of him, mocking him, was just his subconscious. Seto controlled his own mind.

"I'll go, but it won't be for long."

When Seto opened his eyes, Gozaburo was gone.

Relief rolled over Seto, but he still did a check of his bathroom and bedroom just to be sure. There was no sign of Gozaburo but the broken mirror.

Seto touched his neck and could barely feel the scar.

For the first time in years, Seto slept without dreams. He slept through his first alarm and woke up with the second, only long enough to hit snooze.

Seto had to use a guest room to get ready since he didn't have a mirror anymore, and he scrounged up a few bandages to hide the damage to his hand. It would only be a reminder for Mokuba, and a topic of conversation at work.

He made it downstairs before Mokuba, even though it was half an hour later than he normally got up. When his kitchen staff arrived, Seto dismissed them until dinner with the promise of a full day's wage regardless of hours worked.

After last night, he felt that he owned Mokuba a bit of personal effort.

By the time Mokuba made his way downstairs, Seto had already started on breakfast. The pan sizzled when he dropped the battered bread into it, the smell of vanilla and cinnamon bursting out almost instantly.

"Morning, Seto," Mokuba said. He was already dressed in his school uniform and had his backpack with him. He leaned forward on the island to see what Seto was cooking.

"Hey kid. Want some French toast?"


End file.
